Catharsis of Penance
by Jersey13
Summary: Carson is a broken man trying to find his way home after being rescued from his imprisonment by Michael. He wrote this journal to record his feelings and memories, and in its pages he considers whether or not he really wants to ever return to Atlantis.
1. Prologue

-Catharsis of Penance-

A/N: I wrote this a little while ago and thought it was about time to share it. It is structured as a first-person perspective story told as a series of journal entries, and has been finished for some time, so there is no need to worry about being left hanging for long. I will post a new entry or two each day until all 14 parts have been posted.

Rated T for Teen, mostly for the adult subject matter.

Enjoy. And please feel free to post a review to tell me what you did or didn't like. I welcome all types of reviews, but concrit is greatly appreciated. :)

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PROLOGUE

I woke slowly, blinking against the harsh lights that had just disturbed my sleep. As my eyes started to adjust, I heard the creak of a cell door grating on its hinges, and it filled my soul with dread. I sat up and looked down at the torn remnants of a rough linen bed cloth clutched in my fingers. My heart pounded, leaping up into my throat. It was the same familiar cloth from the same terribly uncomfortable bed I'd slept in for almost two years… I trembled with disbelief and horror.

A voice in the darkness laughed at my abject terror.

"No! This can't be real! You can't be real!" I desperately scrabbled for the cell door, but the dark figure backhanded me across the face. My jaw hurt like hell and I fell back into the corner next to the bed. "But my friends... They came for me. They already rescued me!"

"It was just a dream, Doctor. It's time for you to get back to work."


	2. Chapter 1

**Personal Log**  
Dr. Carson Beckett, MD  
17 days since my re-awakening

Rodney McKay is quite the character. Over the years, I've come to know him as a stubborn and arrogant man most of the time, but he still manages to surprise me on occasion. He's just as intelligent as he is stubborn though, and I think he guessed before I said anything that I wouldn't be staying in Atlantis for very long. Dr. Keller has spared me a life spent in stasis, and now he seems to be going out of his way to be nice to me. And amazingly, I'd not heard one word of complaint from him almost the entire time. Not even when I tried to be cheerful did it faze him. 'Rodney! Glad to see you. Would you like to go fishing off the east pier today?' or even 'Hello Rodney! Fancy a game of chess during lunch?' Not once did he try to weasel his way out of it like he used to.

It was almost unnerving, as if he was afraid I was never coming back. I suppose it's not surprising, considering what happened to… well, to the version of me that went on with my life. But _I_ didn't die in that explosion. I don't deserve all the special attention he's giving me, and it's not just Rodney. If I didn't know better, I'd suspect that everyone was still walking on eggshells around me. Something just doesn't feel right about it, but maybe I'm just too exhausted. I do need more time to fully recover my health and I can't wait to get home and finally be able to put all of this behind me. Perhaps then the nightmares I've been having will start to subside, too.

Before I left for Earth, Rodney gave me a very nice leather-bound journal, this journal I'm writing in, in fact, and although I suspect he's re-gifted it to me, I do appreciate the sentiment. Perhaps using it to write about how I'm getting along will help speed my recovery. And I'll have to remember to send him a thank-you note once I'm settled on Earth. But for now, I think what I really need is to figure out where on this bloody ship I might find some warm milk so I can finally get some sleep. The hum of the ship's hyperspace engines just doesn't do the trick like it used to.


	3. Chapter 2

**Personal Log**  
Dr. Carson Beckett, MD  
29 days since my re-awakening

As I write this, I'm still in the process of re-packing my things after an exhausting debriefing at the SGC. Who do these military types think they are, trying to lecture me about all the things I'm not allowed to tell my family when I go home? I know the rules. I know Atlantis and Michael and all of my research are classified, and I know I signed a non-disclosure agreement to ensure it is kept secret. It wasn't necessary for those bloody paper-pushing bureaucrats to so forcefully remind me.

I also paid a visit to the SGC's infirmary where Dr. Keller's assessment was confirmed; while my internal organs are showing improvement, it's still going be some time before my body is completely recovered from my ordeal. I've been given a treatment plan to slowly wean myself off my body's addiction to the Wraith enzyme, and I've been told to watch my diet, exercise gently, and take it easy to give my internal organs a proper chance to heal up.

I managed to find some time to call my mum this morning as well. Hearing her break into tears at the sound of my voice, even over the phone, very nearly pushed me over the edge with her. After all, it's been two years since I even had any hope at all of seeing my family again, and they'd been told I'd died in that explosion early last year. 'Dear Lord! But I gave away your budgie!' had been the first words she'd said after I'd reassured her that I was indeed not dead, that I'd instead been kidnapped. And as I spoke to her today, it started to feel so casual and normal that it was almost easy to just pretend that nothing had happened at all.

I reassured her that my flight would arrive in Scotland well in time for tea, and she promised to see that at least one of my brothers would come to greet me when I arrived. Then there was an awkward silence during which I wished I could have told her more... but instead, I just told her I loved her before I hung up. It would do no good to worry her before even having a chance to see her again.

So I'll just have to settle for this diary as my only outlet for the time being. I thought that the tricky part would be deciding what should be said and what should not be said, but since I'm probably the only one who will ever see this, the challenge becomes being motivated enough to actually sit down and finish my story. It's too easy to let bad feelings ruin your enjoyment of life, and so I must have an outlet somewhere. My family doesn't deserve to be burdened with these thoughts and feelings right now.


	4. Chapter 3

**Personal Log**  
Dr. Carson Beckett, MD  
31 days since my re-awakening

I should never have let Edward talk me into going drinking with him. It's not his fault that I'm upset right now; I was the one who'd happily agreed to go with him after all, but it was foolish of me to let him put me in a position where I might let down my guard, and I now regret burdening him with what I told him last night. I suppose I let down my guard because, of all the people I know, I trusted him most of all to keep anything I told him in confidence. He's also the only other person I know who has ever worked for the military before, so he would understand better than anyone the kinds of risks that I'd taken.

When I'd first arrived at Glasgow airport and saw him waiting there for me, my initial feelings of excitement and elation became mixed with hesitation and fear. I worried that everyone in my family would probably be concerned for me rather than happy to see me. They will want to know what had happened and how I'd survived, but what should I tell them? I couldn't tell them everything even if I'd wanted to since most of it was classified, but what about the parts that aren't classified?

When he reached out to pull me into a heartfelt embrace and politely asked how my flight was, I decided then and there that I wasn't going to tell any of them anything. I somehow managed to carefully and politely deflect their curious questions through dinner and told them only what I'd been instructed to tell them.

'Carson,' Mum asked quietly. Edward had started to clear the table, but I was still picking absently at my beef and mash. I'd not had much of an appetite most of the evening, and she now gazed at me with a loving and concerned expression. 'You've hardly touched your dinner. Are you feeling all right?'

'Aye, Mum. I had a big meal on the plane.' I think she knew I was lying though, and my gaze shifted back to my plate guiltily. I thought perhaps changing the subject might help me avoid saying more. 'Where's everyone else? I half expected the entire family to be here for dinner.'

'Don't you worry. They'll be here on Saturday and you'll have all the nieces and nephews you can handle.' We shared a laugh and her eyes twinkled with amusement, but then her expression turned serious again. 'We didn't want to overwhelm you all at once. Considering what you've been through, I thought it best to give you some time to get settled first.'

I nodded and gave her a grateful smile, but an awkward silence then filled the room. Perhaps she'd been hoping that I would say more, but she didn't pry. Instead, she took my plate to the kitchen just as Edward returned.

He grinned at me cheerfully and rubbed his hands together in anticipation. 'Right! Now, why don't we head over to the pub for a few pints before you're off to bed?'

I should've said no, but I wasn't particularly tired yet and it'd been so long since the last time I'd gone drinking with any of my brothers that I didn't want to disappoint him. 'I suppose a quick pint or two wouldn't hurt.'

I could not have been more wrong. "A quick pint or two" eventually turned into several, then into half a dozen. Before I knew it, I was thoroughly sloshed and having a grand time... until he asked me that inevitable question:

'Carson... What happened to you out there?'

And I was feeling so plastered and tired and frustrated and angry that I actually began to tell him, classifications be damned.


	5. Chapter 4

I honestly don't remember much about how I first came to find myself in that cell. I was so confused and my memory was such a jumble that I just didn't understand where I was or what was going on. It was as if I was disconnected from everything somehow, including my own body. I'm not sure I know the words to describe it better, but my very first recollection upon awakening in Michael's custody was the sudden sensation that I was cold and drowning.

My initial disorientation was almost gone, and I struggled to hold my breath against the tickling sensation in my sinuses and clawed at the water with all my strength. After reaching the surface, I took in deep breaths of air between fits of coughing, straining to reach the water's edge just a few meters away. I dragged myself out of the water and onto the narrow shore, hardly even noticing the figure approaching me in the dark.

The sound of my coughing echoed eerily. I was not lying on a dark beach as I had first thought, but on a rocky ledge in a cave that contained an underground lake. As I peered into the darkness with confusion, wondering where I was, I heard a familiar voice laugh at me. "I had a feeling that would finally wake you up."

Michael. A shiver crawled up my spine at the realization that I was his prisoner... again? Still? Hadn't I just been strapped to a gurney in a medical tent at that place we'd intended to strand him and the other former Wraith? How had he managed to take me from there to wherever I was now without me knowing? I could not hope to hide the horror that I'm sure was plain to see on my face, but I swallowed hard and tried to force myself to stand, despite my unsteady legs. "Where am I? How did I get here? What do you want with me?"

He leered at me, baring his pointed teeth, and moved through a beam of light emanating from a corridor connected to the cave. I shuddered at the sight of his misshapen and discolored face while he circled me slowly. "You were brought here because your knowledge and experience as a geneticist may be of use to me in my research."

I wanted to laugh in his face, but some irrational part of my mind felt too frightened to comply. "You can't possibly be so deluded as to believe that I would _ever_ willingly help you!"

He was quick to become angry. Grabbing me by the neck, he lifted me up bodily from the ground, choking me. "You are alive right now only because I went through the trouble of keeping you that way, Doctor." He dropped me carelessly and continued. "The way I see it, you owe me for keeping you safe. And I owe you for how you betrayed and mutilated me with your retrovirus. You _will_ assist me with my research, willing or not."

I'd barely had enough time to catch my breath when he forcibly hauled me through the corridor. I dragged my heels and struck at his arms hoping that I might get an opportunity to make a run for it, but he was amazingly strong. Nothing I tried dislodged his vice-like grip on me. I was almost desperate enough to try biting him when I was suddenly and unceremoniously dumped onto the floor in a room filled with a plethora of laboratory equipment. Most was Wraith in design, but some looked like it'd been stolen, and some I did not recognize at all. My jaw dropped. Was this laboratory for me? Was he really serious about forcing me to help him with his research?

"Welcome to my laboratory." He toured the room as if to inspect the equipment, then glared at me when I didn't dutifully follow. "This is where you will work when I tell you to work. You will rest when I tell you to rest, and you will eat when I tell you to eat."

"Like hell I will."

His expression turned cruel and his face seemed to form a persistent frown while he took a few moments to ponder my response. Perhaps he was trying to decide if I was bluffing, and I began to wonder then myself. Would I eventually feel compelled to capitulate to his demands if he decided to torture me? I didn't want to die of course, but I don't think could live with myself if it meant that my knowledge would be used to kill others in my place. No! I won't do it! No one will die because I was weak!

If he still had the Wraith ability to read my mind to any extent at all, he already knew that I was determined to resist him. Without another word, he opened the door to a prison cell adjoined with the hallway just outside the lab, tossed me inside, and gave me one last furious glare before he walked away.


	6. Chapter 5

**Personal Log  
** Dr. Carson Beckett, MD  
32 days since my re-awakening

Och, my aching head. I should've known better than to drink so much last night, especially when I had to make a trip to Croughton Royal Air Force base this morning for a special package. There's a contingent of U.S. military personnel there that I've been keeping in touch with about my medical status. Today is 'medication day', and my shots containing the Wraith enzyme my body needs should take the edge off of the nausea and headache, at least. Good Lord... I'm sitting here listening to myself talk about 'medication day' as if it were a good thing or something to look forward to. When did that happen? I've been gradually lowering my dosage as prescribed so I can be free of my addiction within a few months time, but still... When did I start looking forward to my weekly shots as a way to feel less miserable?

I sat there on my bed for a long time wishing I could just chuck my medical bag right out the window. And then it had to happen. My mum, who'd been a bit worried about me not feeling too well, opened the door to check on me... only to see me sitting there with a rubber tube on my arm and a syringe in my hand, ready to plunge its contents into the vein in my arm. Memories of Michael's injections and the unspeakable horrors I helped him create still tormented my conscience. I held such contempt for myself right then, I felt so ashamed and despaired, that my eyes began to sting with the threat of tears.

'What's this then?' she asked me innocently enough.

I managed a reply, but couldn't bring myself to meet her eyes. It hurt so much not to be able to tell her the truth. 'Oh, just some vitamin supplements prescribed to help speed my recovery.'

I'd expected her to leave me to perform my injection in peace, but instead she sat down on the bed next to me. 'Carson, have you given any thought to what you're going to do after you've completely recovered?'

'No, not really,' I replied. Her question had caught me off guard. 'But I suppose I'll probably go back to working for the US military. The pay is good and they're always in need of experienced doctors with clearance. I'm just not sure yet if I want to go back to the research station where I was working before.'

She put a comforting hand on my arm. 'No one would blame you for not wanting to go back.'

'It's just... I have so many friends there, people that I care about.'

'If you truly care about them, I think they will understand. They'd want you to be happy with whatever you choose to do.' She shifted uneasily, fair warning that I was about to be taken on a guilt trip. 'You might even consider staying here. I'm sure there's plenty of consultancy work here for someone with your skills, and of course it'd be nice to have you around more often.'

I sighed and pursed my lips together in an effort to hide my wavering resolve. Of all the things I'd dreaded about coming home, it was knowing that I would see first-hand how much my family had suffered when they'd been told I was dead. And now it was almost too much for me to bear.

She continued, smiling at me softly, and her eyes glistened with emotion. 'I'm so glad you're home, son. It's been so hard without you here with us. Just promise me you'll think about it.'

I pulled her into a hug and tried my hardest not to cry too. 'Alright, Mum. I'll think about it.'


	7. Chapter 6

When the lights went out in my cell, I was plunged into inky blackness and complete silence.

The only sounds I could hear were the dull echo of my breathing and the scratchiness of the rough linen on my bed when I shifted. Although I had access to water from the washroom setup in the other corner of my cell, my stomach started to twist and growl with hunger after a while. I had no sense of the passage of time in the quiet darkness, but I'm sure many hours passed, eventually stretching into days, before I heard anything besides myself. Where was Colonel Sheppard? Where were Rodney and Teyla and Ronon? I thought it doubtful that Michael could've gotten me off-world without me knowing, so shouldn't they have been able to follow him? Shouldn't they be able to track us down? What could be taking them so long to rescue me?

The lights suddenly flickered into life with a steady hum, temporarily blinding me, and moments later I heard a key being turned in the lock to my cell door. The door opened slowly with a loud creak to admit Michael, and then closed behind him.

"Good morning, Doctor," he greeted me with mock cheerfulness. "Did you sleep well?"

I chose not to give him the benefit of an answer.

He smiled at me as if he knew some secret that I didn't, then pulled a small cloth sack from his belt and tossed it to me. "Eat. You need to keep your strength up."

I hesitantly opened the sack to find a chunk of stale bread and a few strips of cured meat. My mouth watered and my stomach twisted in my gut at the faint aroma from the paltry meal, but I was determined not to let him sway my resolve. Without a word, I threw the food at him and spit at his face, and his smug pretense dissolved into a grimace of pure rage. Fear then gripped me like I had never felt before, and I was petrified by it. It felt like his eyes were boring straight into my brain, and then the sensation twisted. I screamed with pain and terror and would've fallen, but I felt his hand close around my throat and shove me back against the wall.

With each breath I fought to take in, I began to feel violated as my mind was unlocked to him, like opening drawer in a desk that he was now rummaging through in an effort to glean some useful information. I tried to shut him out, tried to think of something, anything that would distract me from thinking about the things he wanted to know. I allowed the memory of Rodney's face to fill my mind and concentrated on it. Where are you, my friend? Why aren't you here yet? Michael squeezed harder, bringing me crashing back into the real world. A black haze of unconsciousness now loomed at the edge of my vision.

"They aren't coming," he snarled angrily. A spiteful grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. "In fact, they aren't even looking for you. There is so much useful information in your mind, just waiting to be used in my research..."

I didn't want to believe it could be true. I wanted to call him a liar, but whatever influence he had over my mind was assuring me that the truth was far too enjoyable for him to be lying. Why wouldn't they be looking for me? I could almost hear Colonel Sheppard in my head. '_We don't leave our people behind._' How could he possibly know they won't come for me? No, I won't believe it! I won't believe they'd abandon me! I clenched my eyes shut so I wouldn't see his smile, denying him what little satisfaction I could.

When I was finally released, I fell to the floor gasping for breath. Both physically and mentally exhausted, I hadn't the ability to do much except curl up into a ball and hope he was finished. He considered me for a moment before he knelt down and spoke softly. "There will be no escape from this place for you, Doctor. Your friends will never find you. You've given me so much information already, but I will be patient. Rest assured though that if you continue to defy me, the pain you experienced today will have only just begun."

After that, he left me to the darkness. I soon began to feel alone in my mind again as well. I thought about the hellish nightmare that I'd just experienced and wasn't so sure I could bear to have my mind torn and picked apart like that again. But what defense was there against an alien creature that could enter your mind at will, pick and choose amongst your memories like a buffet, and leave a trail of pain and destruction in its wake?

Hopelessness and despair threatened to overwhelm me as I strained to pull myself back up onto my bed. Starvation wasn't the kind of death I'd hoped for myself at the end, but if there really was to be no rescue as he claimed, it seemed to be the only means I had left to me to refuse him. But even then, considering Michael was a Wraith and could give life as well as take it, perhaps my death might not come soon enough.


	8. Chapter 7

More days passed stretching into weeks, and Michael had returned several more times to interrogate me further. And now, as with every other period in between, I laid quietly in the darkness thinking about how many lives would be lost if I gave in. It was getting so hard to hold any hope at all of being rescued, and Michael was relentless. He just didn't care if my body was slowly beginning to fail me. He kept pushing me for more information, to see more of my memories, and absolutely would not stop. How much longer could it go on like this?

I suppose I'd gone long enough without food that, considering my living conditions, I knew I would fall ill eventually. I just hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. Waves of nausea and feverish chills plagued me mercilessly, and I no longer felt hungry. It was difficult now to keep down any water at all, and I quickly became dehydrated and miserable. When Michael finally came back to my cell to check on me, I no longer even had the strength to move. The clinical part of my mind registered my symptoms as indicative of kidney failure, but I didn't care anymore. I wanted it to end. I wanted to die.

"You don't look well," he sighed apathetically. Straight to the point as always. He suddenly lifted me up into a sitting position and hunched down to face me. A smile played across his face. "Allow me to give you a helping hand."

With a jolt, I felt his hand slam against my chest with what felt like the force of a hammer. And then I realized with sickening revulsion that he was giving life back to my body, life that had certainly come from someone else. I cried out with shock as strength began to return to my extremities, my shivering ceased, and the pangs of hunger once again began to twist my guts. "Why? Why would you do that? I would rather die than help you!"

"You are far too valuable a resource to me, Doctor. Death is not an option for you right now." With well-practiced and deliberate movements, he reached into a pouch on his belt, produced a filled syringe, and began to swab my arm with a disinfectant in preparation for injection. "This will also ensure you don't escape."

I cringed when he moved to inject me, but I didn't have the strength to stop him. Moments later, I began to feel a bit euphoric and sleepy. Even my hunger pangs eased a bit. A sedative perhaps? "What was that you injected me with? Why are you doing this?"

"Is that not obvious to you by now?" He rose to his full height in anger and began to pace the cell in a tight circle. "Twice you forced your retrovirus on me, and by then even the other Wraith began to shun me. They thought of me as some 'unclean thing' that had been tainted. I deserve more than to scratch a meager living, alone and feeding off humans that were foolish enough to wander too far from their villages! I will have my revenge, and if my research proves feasible, I will have an army to serve my cause, each one far stronger and faster than any human or Wraith. And you, Doctor, are the key to making it all happen. Your retrovirus research has been most useful to me thus far."

He was mad! A stark raving lunatic! And my utter shock and amazement at the sheer insanity of his plan must have been apparent on my face because when he turned to look down at me, his demeanor changed to assure me of his determination and willingness to do whatever he had to do to reach his goals.

He continued, a bit more calmly this time, and stopped pacing long enough to direct a haughty glare at me. "Many years of human life were required to heal you just now. How many more human lives are you willing to sacrifice to defy me?"

He knew I felt guilty, but I refused to be baited by such a threat. "It was you who drained their lives away, not me. And you'll continue to do it regardless of my level of cooperation."

Michael snarled and lashed out at my face to vent his frustration, then stormed out of the cell. A bruised jaw was a small price to pay to avoid yet another interrogation session, but to my surprise, the lights didn't go out following Michael's departure. I waited with an impending sense of dread for several minutes until the cell door finally re-opened. Michael reappeared then with a young woman in tow and was dragging her with him into the cell. The poor thing was terrified and struggling fiercely against his grip, and for good reason.

"Meet one of my newest test subjects," he spat angrily, promptly dumping her onto the floor at my feet. "She and others like her are the reason you are here. I can selectively probe small parts of your memory when I know what to look for, but the human mind is so fragile and chaotic that not even Wraith telepathy can sift through all the memories built up over a lifetime of experiences without losing one's self. Therefore, if you won't willingly give me the knowledge I seek, you will assist my research efforts instead. And while you continue to defy me, Doctor, I have no compunction against sacrificing the lives of every human in this galaxy if I must. But consider that with your help, many of them could be saved."

Then he left me again to ponder my alternatives. And now I had a roommate to think about as well. I suppose I was grateful to have someone to talk to, and it would help to ease the discomfort of my almost complete isolation up to this point. But she was so young. If Michael were to force me to watch her die in one of his hastily-planned laboratory experiments, I think it would break my heart. My thoughts turned then to Perna and Hoff and the vaccine that I'd tried to help them develop. I had sworn to myself when she died that I would never again let my work be deliberately used at the expense of so many innocents. But what's done is done, and by now Michael has almost certainly learned enough from me to perform his research and maybe even succeed. Would I now let this young woman die a similar death when I might be able do something to prevent it?


	9. Chapter 8

**Personal Log**  
Dr. Carson Beckett, MD  
60 days since my re-awakening

It's been almost a month now since I came home, and I think I've finally started settling into a pattern. It's almost normal, but at the same time, I still feel like there's a huge empty space in my life and I can't seem to pinpoint exactly what's missing or even what's so different. Everything is almost exactly as it used to be before I left Earth for the Pegasus galaxy. There's a big family dinner on Sunday evenings, I go out to lunch and shopping on Wednesdays with Mum, dinner and a few pints with Edward on Thursdays, and then on Fridays I'm off to Croughton to pick up a new batch of medication, as it tends to spoil quickly. Today was different though in that I'd received a letter from Rodney with my medication.

It was filled with mostly trivial things such as the weather and asking how I was feeling and when I planned to return. He couldn't be too specific, but he did also mention that Ronon had had a run-in with an 'old friend' and was now suffering from enzyme withdrawal symptoms, and I suppose I can identify with that. In short though, they all missed me and wished me well on my recovery and were eagerly awaiting my triumphant return. I do intend to reply to his letter of course, but his request to know when I planned to return made me feel torn and unprepared.

To be completely honest, I'm really not sure I want to go back. I'm comfortable here, more comfortable than I've felt in a long time, and I'm finally starting to feel safe again. My family has been there for me in more ways than I ever expected or asked of them, and if it wasn't for them, I wouldn't still be the man I used to be any more. Have I not fought and suffered more than most doctors on this planet could ever dream? Have I not played my part in this, and do I not deserve to rest now? And yet I feel guilty knowing that my friends on Atlantis are still out there fighting without me to protect the rest of us here on Earth.

Why can I not be at peace? Why do I feel such shame for wanting to just put all of it behind me and move on with my life? And why did any of this have to happen to me in the first place? Being cloned and held prisoner under the threat of death and torture for nearly two years is not what I signed up for when I agreed to work with the US Military on the Pegasus project! And now my family suffers with me because every time my parents see my face, they're reminded of how they once thought I was dead, and I can't even tell them that I'm not their real son!

No more. I refuse to subject the people I love to any more of this. I'm home to stay this time.


	10. Chapter 9

At first the young woman was very shy. She was too afraid to speak to me when I asked what her name was or which planet she came from, but after a full day in relative silence, she seemed to come round a wee bit. Michael would open the door long enough to toss in some food every so often, which I gladly shared with her of course, and I occasionally spoke to her about my friends and how I still held hope that they'd rescue me, but I intentionally kept things vague. I even offered her the bed when she looked tired. I think it helped her to see that I was in very much the same position that she was, and not such a bad man.

"Laina," she said softly after a while. "My name is Laina."

I tried on the most charming smile I could muster. "I'm Carson. If this were anywhere else, I'd normally be very pleased to meet you."

She said nothing more than that for another long time, though. I have to admit that I was initially suspicious of her. After all, what purpose would it ultimately serve Michael to place her in my cell if not to take advantage of me in some way? But I could tell that she was terribly frightened and wasn't particularly interested in talking to me at first, which meant that if Michael intended to use her against me somehow, she probably wasn't a willing participant. It seemed more likely that he was trying to garner feelings for her in me so that I would be convinced to help him.

This poor girl could not have had any concept of what fate probably awaited her, and with her flowing brown hair and delicate, youthful face, she seemed too young to comprehend it or I might have told her the truth. Slowly though, she opened up to me little by little. She told me of the grassy plains and rivers that dominated her world and the people they traded with, and then told me of her family, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, mother and father. Fourteen people had been taken from her village and imprisoned in similar cells to mine, and I was devastated to learn that her younger sister was one of them. The more she told me, the more painful it was to hear. She may have been a simple woman, but she saw how distressed and troubled I was becoming by what she was telling me.

"He's going to kill me, isn't he?" It was more of a statement than a question. She had heard Michael make his demands, but whether or not she had understood his intentions had been unclear to me until now.

"Not if I have a say about it," I reassured her. I'd intended to sound firm and determined to assuage her fears, but I don't think I was able to completely hide the doubt I felt within myself.

She looked up at me hesitantly with eyes full of fear and innocence. "What is it he wants from you?"

I didn't want to frighten her, but I could not bring myself to lie to her. Instead, I simplified my answers to help her understand. "He wants me to assist him with his research. And he may use this research to kill a lot of people."

"And if you don't help him...?" She paused while I considered how to answer, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. "I sense that you are a good man, Carson, and I understand that you must make the right decision, even if it is not the decision that will save us from this fate. But if you promise me everything will be all right, I will believe you."

I no longer held illusions of being able to persuade Michael that I would never be convinced to obey him, or even that I would someday leave this place alive, but if confidence and hope is what this woman needed right now, I would not deny her. I took her hand in mine and wiped away her tears. "Everything will be all right. I promise."

She smiled at me timidly. I think she knew deep down that I didn't have much say in it, though, and that it was a promise that I may not be able to keep in the end. But it made her feel better, so it was the least I could do. I can say though that, for the last few days of her life, I managed to ease some of the despair, keep a bit of hope in her, and even make her smile a few times. After all, I did still believe that I would eventually be rescued, that it was only a matter of time. But as fate would have it, I paid a heavy price for allowing that promise to be broken.


	11. Chapter 10

It was nearly a week later when Michael finally returned for my answer. I thought I'd heard a couple of explosions in one of the more remote parts of the laboratory today, and considering that he was in an exceptionally foul mood when he arrived, I immediately suspected the two occurrences were related. As he closed the door behind him, he didn't even try to act cheerful like he did before. Something significant must have happened. I had a faint stirring of hope in my heart that it just might be that my rescue had come at last, but he gave no outward sign of being rushed or panicked. He displayed the usual pure seething hatred and an even more hotly burning desire for vengeance than before, if that were possible. In fact, I didn't even need to look at him to know. I could feel it in him as he began to probe my mind again.

He looked down at me with an irritated expression and seemed to be debating with himself whether or not to tell me something, but he waited to speak until he had probed my fragile emotional state for weaknesses. He smirked, apparently satisfied with the results so far. "Perhaps you would like to know that your friends paid me a visit today. Colonel Sheppard was here in this compound, and I have to admit that I'm surprised he managed to do so much damage. My most recent cycle of experimentation has been delayed for at least a month because of it."

I looked up at him in horror. They had been here? They had seen him here, but hadn't looked for me? Surely they realized by now that Michael had been the one who had kidnapped me. His implication that they had forgotten about me was absurd, and I tried not to allow myself to be baited by his ruse. He had to be lying!

"You look surprised." He laughed harshly. "They aren't much of a concern to me. I'll just have to move the lab. But _you_ however are quickly becoming a waste of time and effort, and my patience is beginning to wear thin."

I struggled not to show any outward sign of caring about what he said, but the surging adrenaline and anxiety was making my hands shake despite my best efforts.

"So," he began again impatiently. We were nearly nose to nose now. "What is your answer then? Have you reconsidered my demands?"

I felt as though I was melting under his gaze, but I held my ground. What would he try next if I continued to refuse? I glanced over at Laina, who was trying to remain inconspicuous in the corner, and immediately regretted it when I watched Michael's gaze follow. When he looked back at me, I was sure that he had noticed how protective I felt toward her. Had I just put her in danger by thinking about her?

I began to panic, my breath now coming in short gasps, and I fought to hold onto what was left of my shattered confidence. What would she want me to do? All those people he intended to experiment on, what would they want me to do? Wouldn't living as a genetically-mutated monster, especially being forced to serve someone like Michael, be a fate worse than death? What I was enduring now, all this time being interrogated and abused, mind-probed and tortured, was already a fate worse than death!

"No," I replied sternly, my fear hardly concealed. "I won't do it! I won't help you torture and murder innocent people!"

The fires of his rage and frustration exploded in my mind, the sheer force of which physically knocked me down. I then watched him reach out and grab Laina by the neck without conscious decision, driven by rage. Before I had a chance to protest or even realize what was happening, the sickening crack of her neck breaking under the pressure of his fingers echoed on the walls. My heart pounded in my ears as Michael released her, and I had no doubt that she was dead before her lifeless body had even hit the floor.

For a brief moment, my feet were rooted in place with shock and utter disbelief. But as the shock began to subside, anger overwhelmed me in its place. It was at this moment that I felt some primal part of me break free, and pure unadulterated hatred coursed through my veins. It was so intense, Michael was momentarily distracted. I took the opportunity to throw myself at him. I managed to wrestle him to the ground, but my attack was disorganized and I still felt weak. He recovered quickly and struck me hard, knocking me back against the wall next to my bed. I tasted the coppery, bitter tang of blood as I fought to breathe through the pain.

He left me alone with her again, but my trembling did not abate for a long time. I cowered in the corner trying to avoid the lifeless gaze of her eyes. Guilt and grief drove me first to tears, and then ultimately to indecision. What the bloody hell was I trying to prove by refusing to help Michael? That I could take a beating? That I could resist his mind-probing? That I still believed I was upholding my oath of "Do no harm," no matter how many people he kills with his experimentation? Am I really doing the right thing by not acting to protect these people, especially when it's entirely possible that doing what he asks could save some of them?

Even now in death, her eyes glittered faintly in the darkness, as if to remind me of how I'd promised her everything would be all right. Damn it! Why did he have to kill her? Was it just to make me feel guilty, or was it to make a point? There was no justification for it, no real reason at all. She was absolutely no threat to him whatsoever, but she ended up paying for my transgressions with her life. It was my fault that she'd been put in danger, and my fault that she was now dead. And for what? If I don't do something, the rest of those people, including her young sister, will share her fate. One way or another, they will die and it will be my fault.

"Do no harm." The words echoed in my mind like a warning, and I knew now that if I ignored that cardinal oath I'd made when I became a doctor, Michael will have beaten and broken me as surely as he'd beaten and broken my body, and Laina truly will have died in vain and without purpose. Her death may not have meant anything to him, but her life still means everything to me. Her sister and her people need my help and I will not watch them die, not if there's something I can do to stop it. I cannot allow Michael to kill me or break me, and I cannot give up hope that Colonel Sheppard, Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon will eventually come for me.

They will come for me. They will rescue me. I just have to be patient. And until then, Michael may think that he has won, but I will know better. I will stay alive, I will play my part in this, and I will save who I can. And I swear on my life that one day Michael will get the punishment he is due.


	12. Chapter 11

**Personal Log**  
Dr. Carson Beckett, MD  
93 days after my re-awakening

'Carson, you've hardly touched your food,' Mum said quietly. She's been growing more and more concerned about me for some time now, and I think she noticed I was brooding a bit more than usual today. Admittedly, I'd hardly said a word most of the morning while we were out shopping, and even when we sat down at the table in the kitchen for lunch, I remained distracted by my thoughts. The ticking from the clock on the wall was the only sound while she waited patiently for a response, but I had no real desire to talk about what was on my mind.

'If something is bothering you, you know I'm always willing to listen.' She always seemed to have a maddening knack for being able to tell when something was wrong.

'I know, Mum,' I replied finally, but I was reluctant to say anything else.

She decided to press me for more this time, probably thinking that it would do me some good to finally talk about what was bothering me. 'It's not good for you to be sitting around moping all day.'

'I'm not moping,' I insisted. Why couldn't she just leave it well enough alone? 'In fact, I've been talking to Doctor Lowenstein at the clinic about possibly leasing an office to start doing some consultancy work in a month or two.'

'Then you're not going back to the research station in Antarctica?' She almost seemed surprised.

I paused to think and let out a heavy sigh. Conflicting emotions were beginning to sway my resolve. 'No. I'm not going back.'

'You don't sound very sure of that.'

Her insistence was starting to put me on the defensive. 'Isn't that what you want, for me to stay?'

She gave me one of those motherly, exasperated looks and shook her head. 'Far be it for me to tell you what to do with your life, son, because you've always had your own mind about that. I just asked what was bothering you.'

Guilt stabbed at me for becoming so easily irritated. 'I'm sorry. I don't mean to be difficult.'

Mum patted my hand affectionately. 'It's alright. Not many people can live through what you did without being at least a wee bit changed by it.'

It took a lot of effort to keep my emotions in check. 'I didn't want to be changed by it. Everything was perfectly fine the way it was before. _I _was perfectly fine before.'

'But now…?'

She looked at me with that motherly inquisitiveness I used to value and appreciate so much, but now I couldn't endure it. I felt as though she was looking right through me into my soul, not entirely unlike how Michael used to so casually probe my mind and thoughts whenever it had suited him. I had built up barriers in my mind in order to survive and withstand such invasive, destructive attacks on my sanity, and I hated that those barriers now stood between me and my mother. I felt my carefully placed mask of indifference begin to crumble.

'This may not be what you want to hear, Carson,' she began softly, but not unkindly, 'but you've been keeping all of us at such a distance that it's like I hardly know who you are any more. I know it's classified, and you don't have to tell me everything to be at peace with yourself. But whether you wanted it to happen or not, that experience did change you.'

'He hurt me so much, Mum.' My eyes burned and I looked away, unable to bear her gaze. 'I don't even have the words to describe how terrible it was. You don't deserve to be burdened with that. And you're right. I have changed. I'm not the man who left this house four years ago.'

'You always worked so hard to look after everyone else, but when you're the one who needs help, who's going to look after you if not your family?' She held my hand tightly as if afraid she might lose me again. 'That's why you came here. Carson, the only certainty in this universe is that everything can and always does change, including people. But no matter what happens to you out there, no matter how much you change, you will always be my son and I will always love you.'

It felt like a floodgate had opened up in me, releasing a tidal wave of pent-up emotion that I had no hope of stopping. All of the rage and grief and pain poured out of me until I was so tired and emotionally spent that Mum practically carried me to the guest room and insisted I rest for a while. With hardly even the energy to protest, I fell into a deep, restful sleep the moment my head hit the pillow. In fact, it was the most restful sleep I'd had in a very, very long time.


	13. Chapter 12

**Personal Log**  
Dr. Carson Beckett, MD  
115 days after my re-awakening

It was a very quiet Thursday evening, made so mostly by the relative lack of conversation with Edward when we sat down for tea together. He was oddly subdued, almost as though he was concerned about something, but I'd never really known him to worry before about anything in his whole life. It left me nervous and on edge.

I was about to ask him if something was wrong when he decided to speak up. Perhaps he sensed my confusion. 'I spoke to Mum yesterday. She told me you were planning to stay.'

'Aye,' I confirmed uneasily. 'Is that why you seem so bothered tonight?'

'No, I'm not bothered by that,' he assured me quickly. 'Although perhaps I am a wee bit surprised.'

My confusion only intensified. 'Mum seemed surprised too, but why? She seemed eager at the possibility of having me at home more often.'

'No reason, really.' Edward paused to take a sip of his tea before elaborating. 'It's just that when you left a few years ago, you seemed so excited and optimistic about the potential for your research.'

I shook my head, not quite sure how to answer. 'Like Mum said, I've come back a changed man.'

'Aye, so you've told me.' He put down his cup and looked me straight in the eyes, and I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. 'But is all that excitement and optimism for the work you used to do really gone? Did this "Michael" person truly drive it from you completely?'

His question left me feeling bereft with confusion because he was right. Where had it gone? I'd once felt a lot of joy for my work, but that feeling was now missing. It was what gave me meaning in my life, and I felt the pain of my loss of confidence and of my sense of purpose more strongly than ever. 'He made me do terrible things, Edward. Thousands of people died because of the work he forced me to do while I was his prisoner, and I can never take that back. It has nothing to do with excitement or optimism.'

'You eventually escaped though, didn't you?'

'No.' Frustration was starting to creep into my voice. 'Nearly two years passed before I was finally rescued. I'd almost managed to escape once, but I was recaptured by people who willingly served him and didn't care what he did. I was starved, tortured, and for two years he took pleasure in tormenting me with the fact that there was no escape and no one was coming to rescue me. I don't ever want to go back to that that kind of life.'

'But that's not the life you chose, Carson. It never was. I'm sure you would've much preferred to go back to your research station and continue working for the betterment of mankind, but sometimes bad things happen to good people and there's only so much that you can do about it. You need to find a way to forgive yourself and let this go, find a catharsis of penance of a sort, or you'll never be able to come to terms with yourself and what you had to do to stay alive.' He rose from his seat and reached out for the kettle to make more tea. 'Where you go from here is your own decision of course. I just don't want to see you do the wrong thing.'

I nodded shallowly and tried to distract myself by helping him with the dishes. Maybe what I really need is some time to myself to think everything over.


	14. Chapter 13

**Personal Log**  
Dr. Carson Beckett, MD  
118 days after my re-awakening

I'd woken well-rested and in fairly good spirits that Friday morning after I'd had dinner with Edward, and something in me had yearned for a wee bit of adventure. Of course, it could've had something to do with all the sports equipment and fishing gear that had been lying about haphazardly in the dining room. Mum said that she'd been cleaning out the garage, and when I saw my old fishing pole and tackle box, I had the urge to find somewhere to use it again. Although I secretly wondered if that might have been her plan all along, I informed her that I was going to take some time to drive up the coast and enjoy the decent weather, and that I would be back in a week.

She smiled, and I couldn't help but notice the happy twinkle in her eyes. 'Have a good time, son.'

I returned her smile, and I wondered how she seemed know me better than I know myself. After I packed up my gear in the car, I was quickly off to Croughton to obtain my weekly batch of serum. From there, I headed north up the coast through the highlands and Glencoe to a small fishing village by Fort William to pick up some more gear and supplies, enough to last me a while. I fished all day, and in the evening I went into the village and stopped by a cozy little pub for a few drinks and enjoyed the company of a few strangers there.

It felt good to be free and clear of any obligations for a while, and to be out in the wilderness fishing and enjoying some peace and quiet. There were no obligations, no responsibilities except to myself, no distractions, and no deadlines. I wasn't sure I could remember the last time I felt so happy… until my thoughts turned to Atlantis. I'd gotten another letter from Rodney, and he'd gone on to mention that he'd met some alternate versions of his team. It made me wonder if perhaps a version of me was still on Atlantis in any of those other realities he'd seen.

At first I was reluctant to admit it, but I'm starting to miss Atlantis. I'd come to think of the people there like my family too. Not that I'm not enjoying spending so much time with my real family, of course, but now I'm starting to feel like I'm missing out on the excitement that Rodney was trying to share with me in his letters. It was why I'd agreed to go to Atlantis after discovering the Ancient gene, after all. Since I'd gotten all of my pain and grief out in the open the other day, I've never been closer to Mum, and now I find myself feeling like I'm back at the very beginning and trying to decide if the Pegasus Galaxy was just too far away from my family and all the people I love here. I spent several days fishing and thinking, trying to decide what about me had changed or stayed the same.

The sun was getting quite low in the sky, almost ready to disappear behind the mountains behind me, so I set down my fishing rod and prepared to cook dinner while my memories turned from Atlantis back to Michael. Hadn't I come back to Earth to try to forget about all the terrible things he'd done? Or was it really Michael that I wanted to forget? No, I didn't want to forget. What I really wanted was to see him brought to justice for the crimes he committed. So why was I really here then, on Earth with my family?

And then it occurred to me that _this_ is why I was here. I'm taking a break, using the time for rest, introspection, and thinking things through, and I've started both the physical and mental healing processes that will inexorably leave me with one last decision to make – what do I want to do when I'm fully recovered? Have I changed too much to go back to the life I had in Atlantis? Do I even want that life anymore?

I looked down at Rodney's letter. Yes, I do want it back. Working for the betterment of mankind and expanding the boundaries of human knowledge has always been my life's purpose, and I wanted to feel the passion and excitement and eagerness to learn from the unknown flowing through my veins again. Having lifted some of the burden of guilt I'd endured before, I realized that I wanted it back now more than ever. When Michael disseminated the Hoffan serum onto all those worlds, despite all my efforts to refine it, he caused a lot of pain and suffering, and those people now need my help. I can't in good conscience abandon them to the terrible fate Michael would choose for them, now can I?

But right now, I'm going to enjoy my dinner. And in a few days I'll go home, give Mum a kiss, and have dinner with my family. I might even stay on Earth for a wee bit longer to see more of my extended family living abroad. After that, though… I think I'll go home, to Atlantis.

End


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